


Corin Hawke Stories

by RandomnonsenseDA (B1nary_S0lo)



Series: Other DA Universes [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Dragon Age II Quest - Birthright, Dragon Age II Quest - Portrait of the Past, Dragon Age II Quest - The Long Road, F/F, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hair Braiding, Implied Sexual Content, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Character Death, Prompt Fill, Purple Hawke, Tumblr Prompt, background Aveline/Donnic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/RandomnonsenseDA
Summary: Short, prompted pieces about Corin Hawke, an irreverent mage with a secret soft side.





	1. "The woman in the painting"

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a lot about Corin yet (she's not my main Hawke, so I only write about her when inspiration strikes), but wanted to post these pieces here so they're backed up somewhere besides Tumblr ;)
> 
> Corin also features in "The Hawke Sisters," which is also included in my "Other DA Universes" series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: past character death

At first, Corin wasn’t sure if she ought to give the portrait back to her mother. Carver was against it, of course.

“Don’t go showing that thing to her,” he said, shortly after they found it in the cellar of the Amell Estate. “You’ll just upset her.  _Again._ ”

Corin winced even as she slipped the small oil painting into her sack. For once, she had no reply ready for her brother.

But it felt strange to hide the painting in her room. So, a few days after they’d had it out with Gamlen, and on an evening when Carver wasn’t about, Corin approached Mother. Cautiously.

“I think this is yours, mother dearest.” Corin knew her tone would drive her mother mad, but she couldn’t stop herself. She always joked when she was nervous. Well, other times, too, but mostly it was nerves.

“Mine? Whatever are you–?” Mother’s hand went to her mouth. “Ohhh. My word.”

She took the portrait from her daughter, studying it with tightly drawn brows. Corin dug her hands into her pockets and scuffed the floor.

“Are you all right?” she said, not joking for once.

“What? Oh, of course.” Mother tore her eyes from the portrait. “It’s just so strange. This was my betrothal portrait, you know. I never thought I’d see it again.” She ran her hand across the canvas, and her eyes clouded. “I never realized how much I looked like… like Bethany then.”

Corin wanted to reach a hand out and snatch the picture back, just to save her mother the pain. This was what she’d been afraid of. As usual, her tongue raced ahead of her brain.

“You don’t look  _that_  much alike,” she said. “A bit different around the eyes, I’d say. And Bethany’d never be caught wearing her hair like that, so.”

Corin offered her mother a grin, which was not returned. Her face fell, and she scuffed the floor again. Mother’s eyes were on the portrait once more. She sighed.

“I just keep thinking there’s something we could have done.” Her voice broke. “It’s killing me.”

“At least you’re past the ‘It’s all your fault thing,’” said Corin’s traitor tongue. She couldn’t keep the words back, even though it was physically painful to say them.

For the first time, Corin’s mother looked back at her with a clear, direct gaze, eyes full of sorrow. Corin had been wrong before. Her mother’s eyes really were exactly like Bethany’s.

“I’m sorry, love,” Mother said. “I was… distraught. I never really believed that. I just… I miss her.”

Corin took a hesitant step forward. Something inside her, some painful knot, started to untie. She lay a hand on Mother’s shoulder.

“I miss her too,” she said.

Mother nodded. Corin pulled her into a one armed hug, and kissed the top of her graying hair. She was too relieved to think about how strange it was to be doing the comforting, instead of it being the other way round.


	2. "Doing each other's hair"

“Hawke, I don’t think I can do this…” Aveline groaned, resting her head on their table at the Hanged Man. Corin heaved a sigh and put her tankard down.

Since Aveline’s failure-of-a-date with Donnic a few hours earlier, Corin had been doing her best to talk her friend down—and build her confidence up for the patrol she planned to organize with him the following day. But the more alcohol they consumed, the less effect Corin’s words seemed to have.

She patted Aveline on the back.

“Oh, what is there to do, really?” she said. “Just talk, bat your eyelashes, and maybe kill things.”

“I’m not really the eyelash batting type…” Aveline said, her voice muffled by the table.

“Well, two out of three,” Corin said.

She glanced over at her friend—or more accurately, the back of her friend’s head. Aveline’s hair had come loose, the tie almost all the way to the end of her loose ponytail. With the impulsiveness of the slightly intoxicated, Corin reached over and began absently braiding her hair. Aveline gave a small twitch, but didn’t look up.

“What are you  _doing?_ ” she muttered.

“Making you look pretty,” Corin said. She furrowed her brow. It had been awhile since she’d braided someone else’s hair, and Aveline’s hair was much coarser than Bethany’s had been.

Aveline muttered something about “losing battles.” Corin pulled the next strand of hair a little harder than was necessary, though not hard enough to really hurt her.

“Don’t talk like that,” she said. “You’re very attractive. Even more when I finish… this…”

She pulled the last few strands into place, then sat back to view her handiwork. Corin decided she’d done pretty well for a drunk person. Aveline’s long hair was now in a serviceable Orlesian braid.

“Done!” she announced. Aveline reached behind her to feel the new braid, then sat up groggily.

“How does it look?” she said, frowning.

Corin gave her a thumbs up, and the corner of Aveline’s mouth curled up.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “Well… suppose I should get home. Busy day tomorrow…”

She got up with a scrape of her chair, and Corin’s frown returned. It would be nice if Aveline sounded a little less like she was going to her own funeral.

Corin got to her feet.

“Hey, why don’t I come to your place tomorrow, before the patrol?” she said, then added in a sing-song voice, “I can make your hair look all pretty again before the da-te.”

Aveline half grinned again. “It’s a patrol, not a date,” she said, “but, all right. Do your worst.”

Corin pumped her fist with a small, “yes!” Aveline rolled her eyes, but still smiled.

“I appreciate the help, Hawke.”


	3. "I'm going to teach you how to dance, come here"

Much as Corin enjoyed sex with Isabela, in some way her favorite part was after they finished. She liked lying in bed—sated and sleepy—and watching Isabela dress. She liked their chats, which somehow came more easily than they did at other times.

Tonight, Isabela sat at the edge of the bed lacing up her long boots. Corin grinned sleepily, reached over and tugged at the end of her tunic. Isabela playfully whacked her hand away.

“We’ll be here all night if you keep that up.”

Corin sighed, propping herself up on one elbow. “Would that be so bad?”

Isabela reached over to run a hand down Corin’s jaw, briefly cupping her chin. “I’m sure you have places to be, sweet thing. Just like I do.”

Corin tried not to shiver at the contact, or frown once it was gone. She rolled her eyes instead. “Yes. Another horrible party with my mother and a bunch of boring nobles. I’m sure whatever you have planned is much more fun.”

Isabela grinned crookedly. “Oh, I don’t know. There must be  _something_  fun about it.”

Corin frowned, considering. “Dancing is fun, I guess.”

“If you say so.”

Corin sat up to get a better look at Isabela, knees pulled up to her chest. “You say that like you’ve never done it before.”

Isabela shrugged. “I haven’t. Never learned.”

“You never learned to  _dance_?” Corin was shocked. She was new to dancing the noble way, sure, but she’d also danced back in Lothering, at harvest festivals and things.

“It’s just dancing,” Isabela said, narrowing her eyes. “Lots of other ways to have fun.”

“No,” Corin said, clambering out of bed. “I can’t let this stand. I’m going to teach you how to dance.”

She reached for Isabela’s hands, pulling her to her feet. Isabela rolled her eyes, but let Corin draw her close.

“I  _need_  to  _go_.”

“Come on. Just for a few minutes.”

Isabela sighed, but relented. Corin managed to show her a few simple steps. Isabela cooperated for awhile, but soon grew bored with waltzing. She grabbed Corin’s hands and they twisted, dipped, and twirled each other around the room, laughing all the while.


	4. "LI falls in battle and OC runs to their aid"

It happened almost too quickly for Corin to process. One minute she was hurling spells at the bandits who had ambushed them along the coast, trading barbs with Varric and, occasionally, appreciatively eyeing Isabela as she darted and dodged around the battlefield. Then she was watching in horror as an assassin, unseen by any of them until that point, knifed Isabela in the side. Corin heard her scream, and saw her go down.

Before Corin knew what she was doing she was running into the heat of battle. She heard Varric call out, and Aveline shout for her to stop, but she didn’t care. Her ears were roaring, and she was aware only of the feeling of her staff striking foes to force them out of her way, and of the sight of Isabela, half lying on the ground and clutching her side.

“What are you  _doing_?!” Isabela shouted as Corin leapt in front of her. But Corin didn’t turn. She launched spells blindly into the fray, and it was everything she could do to keep the bandits back. She wasn’t used to being in the thick of battle like this, but all that mattered was that she keep them away, keep Isabela safe.

She heard a great roar from nearby as Aveline managed to fight her way over to them, stabbing and slashing and knocking the remaining bandits aside. Within moments the battle was over, and Varric was running over to see if they were all right.

“That was… something, Hawke,” he said.

“What it was was foolhardy,” Aveline said, sheathing her sword and wiping her brow. “You could’ve been killed.”

Corin didn’t answer. She turned. Varric was already helping a cursing Isabela to her feet. She still clutched at her side, white blouse stained dark with blood. Corin moved toward them.

“Let me see it,” she said.

She reached out, hands pulsing with magic to knit the skin and muscle back together. Isabela winced.

“That was a bloody stupid thing to do, Hawke,” she said in an undertone.

Corin just furrowed her brow and focused harder on healing the wound.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Isabela said. “I’ve gotten hurt before. I can handle myself.”

Varric was now looking nervously from her to Corin, who was still focused solely on her healing. She had to concentrate, wasn’t as good at this as Anders was.

“Hawke,  _talk_  to me.”

The wound closed, and Corin pulled her hand away.

“Should be good as new now,” she said, standing straight. She tried to recapture her usual, light tone. “Like you never got stabbed at all.”

“Hawke—”

Corin turned away, walked past Aveline and back toward the path they’d taken. Her cheeks burned and she didn’t want to think about her shaking limbs or the dizzy, sick feeling she’d gotten when she’d seen Isabela go down. What the two of them had wasn’t meant to be serious. Isabela had made that clear from the start. But no matter how hard she tried, Corin couldn’t seem to make her heart cooperate.


End file.
